


Beyond the Event Horizon

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alien Castiel, Alternate Universe, M/M, Stargate SG-1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester loves his job. With his brother, his best friend, and his sister-in-law on his team and a whole galaxy to explore, every day brings new weirdness. But when a mission kick starts a revolution on a distant world, everything might have to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond the Event Horizon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngelWhisperings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWhisperings/gifts).



> For the lovely casdeservestobeshaved through the event formerly known as the Dean/Cas Fic Exchange! Enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks to Lily AS ALWAYS, #1 BETA
> 
> And to my Stargate consultants thedisreputabledog, winjennster, and ireallyhatecornuts!

Dean Winchester hates meetings.

He hates sitting in uncomfortable chairs, waiting for someone with an extra row of bars on their uniform to come in and make everyone jump to attention.

He hates the anticipation of not knowing why a meeting’s been called, and scanning the room to make sure all friends are present and unkidnapped.

And he hates that meetings inevitably end with someone telling him to do something that doesn’t involve burgers, pie, or attractive women. Or attractive men, come to think of it.

Still, he knows he has it pretty good. He's got his team in the commissary of the base, starting with his brother on his side of his team's table, all gigantor limbs and floppy hair. Sam's just back from getting a degree in xenobiology from Stanford's super-secret program at Area 51. On his other side is Doctor Charlie Bradbury, who's an Air Force Major, a brilliant tech girl and _unbeatable_ at Street Fighter. Across the table is Sam's wife Jess, the least geeky archeologist Dean’s ever met, a truly stellar medic, and a girl way too cool for his brother.

They're waiting for General Henrickson, who's called a meeting of the four Stargate teams currently on base in the mess of Cheyenne Mountain.

Bela's team is to his left, clustered around a silent game of poker. They’re is all business, smirking at each other as they play through the round. Dean doesn't envy her Crowley, Ruby and Meg; although to be honest he doesn't envy them her, either.

To his right are Bobby's and Ellen's teams, mixed together as Ash tells some sort of story, ponytail swinging as he gestures wildly. Jo's standing to one side, smile guarded. Ellen still hasn't forgiven her daughter for joining up, but Henricksen would've been a fool to turn her down. At least he had the sense to stick her with Bobby rather than directly under her mother’s supervision.

Ash slides off the table as the door swings open to admit General Henricksen, the commanding officer of the SGC. Dean straightens, standing in unison with the fifteen other team members as they wait for the General's orders.

“At ease, everyone.” Victor’s face is grim. “SG-5 missed their check-in. They’re overdue by six hours.” Murmurs spread through the room. “Now if this were Colonel Winchester’s team, we might not have a problem.” A few chuckles at this— Dean’s propensity to check in late or not at all is well known. “But Colonel Devereaux is usually a little more punctual.” He looks out at his teams. “I’m going to be sending in a team for a possible rescue mission. SG-1, you head to P3X-263 and see what you can find. Major Lafitte, I want you to put together a team to look into what we’ve got on the Goa’uld and anyone else that we know about in the area. The rest of you, stay on base. We might be calling in more of you to head out. Dismissed.” He nods at Dean to follow him and turns, walking briskly to the hallway.

General Henricksen’s been in charge of the Stargate program since Jess’s team of Stanford archeologists had dug up the gate eighteen months ago. He’d hand-picked the first three teams to go through the gate as well as the staff in Stargate Command and sometimes Dean thinks Victor’s the only reason the Stargate program hasn’t been taken over by the government or the Russians or the goddamned Goa’uld.

He follows the general into his office, shutting the door behind them. 

“Take a seat, Dean.” Victor drops into his chair and Dean does the same. “This mission’s gonna be a messy one. We got intel that the Goa’uld in the area’s a powerful one, one of the oldest.”

“The archangels?” asks Dean, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah. Michael.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean leans back, thinking. The archangels are legendary to the Goa’uld. They’re their oldest and most powerful members, and they’re the only thing he’s ever heard a Goa’uld express fear of. When they ganked Zachariah last spring, Dean had gotten the distinct impression he was working for someone else. It wasn’t an impression Dean’s particularly happy about. “So that’s who’s got Frank’s team?”

Victor nods. “That’s what we think.” He sighs. “You know as well as I do that that team isn’t our strongest. Frank and Martin haven’t been reacting too well to missions lately, and Madison and Pam just don’t have the experience yet.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Victor pulls out a thin folder. “Here’s what we’ve got on Michael.” 

Dean takes it. It’s light, with maybe five sheets of paper. Most of that’s the standard reports filed when a team makes contact, no new information. “So we’ve got fuck-all?”

“Pretty much.” Victor gives him another slow smile and leans forward, elbows on the desk. “I just need your team to go in and find out what happened to SG-5. Can you do that for me, Dean?”

Dean gives a sloppy salute. “Yes, sir.” He stands. “Permission to report back to my team?”

“Granted.” Victor reaches for the phone, dialing. “You head out at 1400.”

\-----

Dean’s never going to get over the thrill of lining up in front of an open wormhole with his team, waiting to step through to another planet.

Sam’s laughing at something Jess said and Charlie’s checking her tablet one last time, taping down the corner of the Captain Kirk sticker on the back and typing in a few commands. The wormhole is active and stable and rippling in front of them, and he glances back to give Victor a thumbs-up through the window.

Victor gives the signal, and Dean starts up the ramp, his team beside him, and steps through the wormhole.

After the brain-melting trip through space-time he finds his feet quickly and glances around. It's a desert planet, hot and dry, and in the distance there are mountains and what looks like a city on the horizon. There's no one guarding the gate, and he's not sure if that's a good or bad sign.

Sam pulls out a scanner and frowns. “Looks like there was Zat fire here in the last few days. Something big.”

Charlie bends down, pale from the trip through the gate but recovering fast. “Dean, look at this.” She holds out her hand.

Dean walks closer and takes the piece of fabric from her. “ _Fuck._ ” 

It’s a charred, torn piece of cotton. In the corner he can just barely make out the edge of a patch of red and white stripes. He turns to Sam. “No one but SG-5 has been to this planet, right?”

Sam shakes his head, still scanning.

“So it’s gotta be from them.” He hands it back to Charlie, who folds it and stuffs it into a pocket of her vest. “Jess, you seeing anything?”

The medic is examining the sand by the gate carefully. “There’s some blood splatter under the gate’s shadow, where the wind didn’t blow it away. Not much, but it’s definitely there.” She pulls out a device and presses it into the sand. “Definitely human.”

“Great.” Dean squints at the horizon. “Let’s make for the city, carefully. Last recon said this was a pretty low-level tech population, and their Goa’uld legends were ancient, right?”

Charlie nods, then smirks. “Good thing we don’t have to follow the Prime Directive, right?”

Dean grins at her. “I like the Janeway school of thought anyway. The Prime Directive is more of a guideline, right?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “And you call _me_ a geek.”

Dean chuckles. "Let’s get going. Don’t want to be stuck out on the sand with you two lovebirds all night if we don’t make it by sundown.”

Jess snorts. “Dean, we’ve heard enough from you and the alien ladies that you owe us. Seriously.”

“Hey, gotta give Sammy something to learn from, right?”

“Gross, Dean.” Sam’s got an epic bitchface and Jess and Charlie are cracking up, and Dean gives a cocky grin. 

“You know you love it, Sam.” He starts jogging towards the city. “You don’t know what you’d do without me.”

Sam snorts. “Maybe have a normal social circle? And not have to listen to your Star Trek jokes all day?”

“Hey!” Charlie’s caught up with them and shoves Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t knock the Trek.”

Jess just shakes her head.

\-----

The city looms up before them as they reach the outer wall, and Dean slows to a walk.

“What’s the plan, Colonel?” asks Charlie in a whisper. “Are we gonna just walk into Mordor, or what?”

Dean shakes his head, ducking into a shadow and gesturing for his team to follow. “The people SG-3 talked to on P3X-282 said this Michael character doesn’t like to hang out on the planet. He takes his pick of vessels, then heads back to his ship.”

Charlie scans the sky with a homemade gadget. “Nothing up there right now. Nothing at all in orbit, not in this hemisphere, anyway.”

“All right. Jess, you got the robes?”

Jess holds up her pack, grinning. “Yep. And an extra large for Sam.”

“Can’t be showing off your moose-ankles to the native population, now can we?” Dean rifles through the bag and passes a robe to each of them, making sure the largest goes to his brother. “Alright, so we go in, chat some people up, see what the word is. Jess, we'll see if there’s some sort of researcher or shaman or something that will trade information. I want to find out who was here and if anyone saw Michael or SG-5.”

“Dean,” Sam looks hesitant. “Frank and Martin aren’t the most--” he searches for the word, “--diplomatic of people. If they came through here, I’m pretty sure mentioning we know them won’t earn us any points.”

Dean nods. “Good point. So you’re just travellers. We just heard about the team of Tau’ri that came through the stargate--”

“-- _chappa’ai_ \--” interjects Charlie.

“--the _chappa’ai_ and we thought they might want to trade. Sam and Charlie, that’s your story. See if anyone will tell you where they went.”

“And we’re on Goa’uld legend duty?” asks Jess.

“You got it.” He straightens the burnoose on his head. “Sam and Charlie, head around to the south side and go in through the other gate. I don’t want people to think we’re together.” He nods at Jess. “We’re headed to the north gate.”

Jess salutes and leans in to kiss Sam, then follows Dean out of the shadows along the wall. She’s silent, but Dean can tell there’s something bugging her.

“Spill, Jess. What’s going on?”

She sighs. “Why would General Henricksen put Martin on Frank’s team? Neither of them are what I’d call _stable_.” Thinking for a moment, she continues, “And Pam’s temper isn’t exactly helping the situation. With Madison so green, that’s not a team I’d want watching my back.”

“Yeah. That’s why this was supposed to be an easy mission.” He shakes his head. “They weren’t even supposed to make contact with the natives. The planet’s big and the population’s small enough that they could have surveyed the wildlife and resources without ever meeting anyone.” He glances at Jess. “It was a test, Jess. To see if they could handle being back in the field. They're both old-school Air Force and worked together in the 70s, and Frank wasn’t going to take Madison without some concessions. If he couldn’t have Martin, he was gonna walk.”

“He was gonna leave the program over that? Martin almost failed the psych evals and Madison’s the best new recruit we’ve had all year!”

Dean grins at Jess. “What, you wanted her on our team?”

She snorts. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m cool with Sam having exes, but I don’t want them in our tent.”

“Yeah. So we got Charlie, which is awesome, and there wasn’t another spot open.”

“Dean--” Jess stops, flattening against the wall. Dean’s learned to trust her eyesight in the last year they’ve been on SG-1 together and shoves back into the shadows as well.

Something rushes by a few hundred feet up, lights dim and metal surfaces shining.

“That’s definitely not from the natives,” whispers Jess. 

Dean puts a finger to his lips and keeps his hand across her shoulders, holding her back in the shadows another moment. After nothing else passes by for a few minutes, he relaxes and edges back out to the edge of the wall. 

"All right, remember, we're researchers."

"You ready to show off your anthro chops?"

Dean snorted. "I'm just gonna make up some legends of 'our people' and spread them around if anyone asks."

Jess grins at him and shakes her head, stopping at the gate to the city as a guard steps forward.

"What's your business in the city?" He asks, voice stern and eyes narrowed. "Are you a citizen?"

Jess pushes past Dean, face stretched in her most pacifying grin. "We're just travelers, sir. We're trying to learn more about the legends in this sector. Do you have a library or school we could visit?"

The guard's big brown eyes soften, unable to resist her disarming charm. "No, no library, ma'am. But we do have old Visyak. She knows more about our lore than anybody, I'd guess." He smiles. "I think she'll like you." He turns to Dean and his eyes glitter. "Maybe not you, though."

Dean gives his most shit-eating grin as Jess rolls her eyes.

As he turns to enter the city, a heavy hand falls on his shoulder and shoves him to the ground before he can duck away.

The gate guard yanks the weapon from Dean's hand as another grabs Jess from behind. Dean opens his mouth to yell for help when there's a sharp pain in the back of his head and everything goes black.

\-----

The next thing Dean sees is a blurry face surrounded by dark hair. Sam's worried face comes slowly into focus above him, hair hanging down in a tangled mess. Jess is just behind him, a hand on his shoulder, frowning.

"Hey, Dean," she says. "Follow my finger, all right?" She moves a hand slowly back and forth in front of his face and Dean watched it closely, trying to push down the nausea swelling in him. 

She sits back on her heels and glances up at Sam. "He's got a pretty serious concussion, Sam. We've got to get him out of here."

Sam nods, face grim, and turns to Charlie. Dean's not sure what he says, because he's blurring out again. Dean feels the blackness swallowing him again and he closes his eyes, letting it overtake him.

\-----

"-can't take her! Stop! _Jess! Jess! No!_ "

 _Sammy._ Dean struggles against the fog in his mind until his eyes open and he sits up, leaning forward to fight the bile rising in his throat. "Sam?" He croaks.

Warm hands grab his shoulders and ease him upright. "They took Jess," whispers Charlie in a soft voice. "We don't know where. Or why. Sam's... upset."

Dean rubs a hand over his face and blinks, trying not to shake his head too much, and peers out at his brother. "How long was I out?"

"Just fifteen minutes or so, but we were starting to get worried. Glad to see you back with us."

Dean nods, and struggles to his feet with a grunt, leaning on the wall and pushing towards his brother, who’s shaking the bars as if trying to pull them from their frame. It’s no use, of course; they’re securely fixed in place and dug deeply into the stone above and below.

He reaches Sam and puts a hand on his flexing shoulder. “Sam. _Sammy!_ Stop!” 

Sam shudders and clenches the bars tightly, then releases, turning. Dean wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a rough hug. “We’ll get her back, Sam. We will. And Jess is tough. She can take care of herself out there.” He glances through the bars and his eyes meet the bright blue ones of the guard standing in the entrance to the corridor. “What, douchebag. You got something to say?”

The guard keeps staring, but it’s a little uncertain, almost hesitant. He keeps his eyes on Dean for a moment, then turns and marches down the corridor.

“Fuck.” Dean slides down the wall, pulling Sam with him as his headache returned with a vengeance. “Fuck these _fucking_ Goa’uld. And their fucking fake god-ness and _spineless_ _fucking Jaffa_!” He raised his voice, shouting after the man.

The man hesitates and Dean thinks for a moment he’s going to turn and come back. But he squares his shoulders and resumes his march down the hallway, arms stiff at his sides, muscles in his exposed back shifting subtly in the torchlight.

Dean rubs a hand over his face and sighs. _Well this sucks._

\-----

A few hours of fruitless planning later,  a new set of Jaffa appear and unlock the bars. One steps inside, prodding Dean with his staff. “You. Move.”

Dean gives them a lazy smile. “Or what? I’m pretty comfortable here, thanks.” He stretches out on his back, not looking at Charlie, who’s edging her way behind the second guard while the focus is on Dean.

“Or I’ll shoot your friend who’s trying to escape,” says the guard dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Believe me, it would not be a hardship.” His companion grabs Charlie around the waist and shoves her back down into the cell. She falls with a gasp, coming down hard on her arm with an audible _snap_. Sam rushes  to her side as the two guards each grab one of Dean’s arms and drag him struggling from the cell and slam the door behind them. He fights, but the lingering effects of his concussion mean he only succeeds in nauseating himself.

They continue down seemingly endless hallways until they reach a room filled with carvings and what look like cryogenic tubes crossed with ancient Mediterranean art. Everything has wing motifs and eyes and Dean’s dizzy just looking at it, but it doesn’t help when they slam him down against a slab and buckle his wrists and ankles into cuffs.

Then they disappear behind a half-wall, and the equipment dangling around the slab begins to move closer with a mechanical _whirr_. Dean tries to pull away, but the needles and blades are getting closer and closer until–

_CRACK!_

There’s a loud scuffling sound from behind the wall and the machinery halts inches from Dean’s arms and face. He strains upwards, trying to see what’s happening, but the cuffs are too tight to allow much movement. There’s the distinctive smell and sound of an energy weapon discharging, then sudden silence.

Footsteps sound, echoing through the large stone room, and a Jaffa comes into view.

It’s the man from earlier, with the bright blue eyes, who’d seemed almost affected by Dean’s taunts. He’s coming closer, his staff trained on Dean.

Finally, when his weapon is pointed directly at Dean’s face, he speaks. “Who are you? What do you want with Michael?”

Dean snorts. “Dude, we don’t want anything to do with your fake gods. We’re just looking for our team that came through here and didn’t come back.” He holds out a hand best he can with his wrists tied down. “Colonel Dean Winchester, United States Air Force. Earth. Tau’ri.”

The Jaffa looks at him for a moment, glancing from his face to his hand, brow furrowed. Finally, he lowers the weapon. “Castiel. First Prime to Michael.” He hesitates. 

Dean takes a chance. “Nice to meet you, Castiel. Mind loosening these cuffs a little?”

Castiel hesitates again, and Dean wonders if he’s slow, or just deliberate. “I–” he swallows. “I couldn’t let them torture you.” He reaches out with the hand not tightly wrapped around the staff and unbuckles one cuff. “It wasn’t right.” He sounds more sure of himself. “It wasn’t what our Father would have wanted.”

Dean sits up as soon as the other cuff is removed, rubbing at his wrists. “Your father?”

Castiel nods. “He created us. He made Michael and his brethren gods, and created us to serve as their soldiers and to help them care for the lesser species. We are all his children.”

“Uh, that’s– that’s great, Cas.” Castiel looks a little surprised at the nickname, but doesn’t object. “Any chance you can help us get out of here?”

“I’m...” The Jaffa looks lost. “I suppose I can, yes. I–” Te glances back at the hallway. “I killed them. My brothers in arms. I–” He trails off, and Dean can see the tide of panic rising in the other man.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He wraps a hand around Castiel’s shoulder. “Well, it’s not _okay_ ,” he amends when Cas gives him a scathing look. “But you’re gonna come with me, all right? You saved my life. I’m not gonna let them get you.”

Castiel gives a small smile. “Thank you, Dean.” He stands. “We need to move. Michael’s other guards will have heard the fight and will be arriving shortly.” He takes off at a jog down a hallway without a backwards glance and Dean follows, grabbing a staff and his pack from where the guards had dropped it and shouldering it. “Follow me.”

He leads Dean down meandering corridors lined with art and sculptures that look like something out of an 80s movie, but Dean’s got no time to gawk as the sounds of shouting trickle down and he starts to hear footsteps getting closer and closer. Finally they burst out into the sunlight and he’s dragged by his collar into a niche in the wall, a hand pressed over his lips and Castiel’s wide eyes inches from his own. He tries to pull back, but the walls are tight enough that they’re crushed together from shoulder to thigh and he can’t look away. Footsteps pound by, somehow not seeing the pair lurking in the chink in the wall, and after a few moments of silence Castiel slowly peels his hand from Dean’s face. He leans in closer, eyes still unblinking, and whispers, “We should be safe to move about the city now. Once night falls we can go back to the holding cells for your companions.”

Dean blinks at him, then clears his throat and nods. “Gotta find Jess, too, though. Where would they take her?”

Sympathy fills Castiel’s eyes. “She was the woman taken to be tested as a vessel?”

Dean nods, then blanches when Cas shakes his head. “We can’t leave her, Cas! She’s my brother’s wife, and my friend! We have to go back!” 

Castiel’s gaze hardens and he tightens his grip on Dean’s shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do, Dean. She’s been secured with the other potential vessels in the holding chamber. It’s guarded by fifteen of Michael’s most loyal and highly ranked Jaffa. Tell me, can you take that many on your own?”

Dean met his gaze squarely for a moment, then deflated, looking at the ground and pulling away. “Then what should we do, Castiel?”

The Jaffa glances back at the pyramid and sighs. “I’m not sure. We can’t go back for her. Not yet. But–” he hesitates. “There might be another way.”

“I’m all ears,” says Dean, pulling out his radio. “Just tell me where you need me.”

\-----

It’s surprisingly easy to get back into the holding area with Castiel on his side, and Dean tries not to think about what he’d be going through had Cas not rescued him. They take side corridors, obviously not what’re usually used by the troops of ceremonially attired guards. The people they pass back here are clothed in simple tunics and robes and aren’t the pictures of health the guards are; these Jaffa are scrawny or plump, older, scarred and certainly not oiled to a reflective shine. Cas seems to have some sort of sixth-sense or at least hearing far better than Dean’s own, because Dean finds himself pulled aside behind doors, drapes, statues and, in one memorable occasion, into what seemed to be a sarcophagus. Each time Cas kept an arm around him, holding him still, as the footsteps approached and then receded.

Finally they emerge from a doorway hidden behind a drape into a hallway Dean’s pretty sure he recognizes from earlier, and sure enough, they come to a row of cells lining the wall. Charlie and Sam have been separated, it looks like, but both rush to the bars as they enter.

“Dean!” Sam calls and Dean shakes his head frantically, finger to his lips. He lowers his voice, glancing suspiciously at Cas, and whispers, “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Sam, Charlie, this is Cas, Cas, my brother Sam and our friend Charlie.” He steps closer, examining the lock. “You got the key for these things?”

“Essentially. Stand back, please.” 

Dean steps back, and after a second, so does Sam. 

Cas pulls out his staff and fiddles with the settings for a moment, then aims it at the lock and calmly shoots a nearly-silent burst of light directly into the keyhole. Dean can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as the door swings open.

“Nice. Can you get Charlie’s, too?” Dean waves Charlie away from the bars and Cas aims and shoots, this time knocking the lock clean off with a clatter that makes all four of them wince. But that door opens too, and Dean tries to push down the thought that this is really going too easily.

He should have known better than to even let it cross his mind, because a moment later there’s Zat fire and they’re running back down the corridors again.

 _Getting my damn cardio, at least,_ thinks Dean hysterically. _I’ll have to remind Sammy about this next time he tries to make me run with him. Who the hell runs for fun when you’ve got a job like ours?_

They turn a corner and nearly run directly a full squadron of Jaffa. The only thing that keeps them from being instantly shot or captured is the element of surprise, and they skid to a halt, turn, and follow Cas’s desperate waves down a side corridor barely narrow enough for Sam’s shoulders as Cas slams and bars the door behind them. 

The hallway spills out into the sunlight and Cas leads them to another doorway, one barely visible even in the bright afternoon sun. He knocks three times, then again twice quickly, and the door cracks open just a few inches onto a darkened room.

“Yeah?” asks a voice suspiciously from inside.

“We need shelter,” Castiel replies quietly, leaning towards the door. “I was told this was a safe place.”

“Password?” asks the voice, not lightening at all.

Castiel thinks for a moment, then says, “Johnny Walker.” The door opens a little further and he leans his head in, lowering his voice even further as he whispers furiously at the person inside.

Dean does a double take at the password, and wonders if he heard wrong. Sam’s obviously thinking the same thing and catches Dean’s eye, mouthing _Johnny Walker?!_ incredulously. Dean mouths back _Dude I have no idea_. As he turns back to the door he sees Charlie smirking at them. He narrows his eyes at her and her smile widens.

Cas finishes his whispered conversation and beckons them forward, and Dean pushes Sam and Charlie in ahead of him. As he watches his brother disappear into the darkness, he has a moment of panic. _Who is this guy?_ he wonders, squinting at the shadowy figure of Cas as he follows the group down yet another set of hallways. _Why the hell is he helping us?_ He pauses for a moment, struck with the thought, _and why do I trust him like this?_ He sighs. _Something to think about. For now I’ll just watch my back, and Sammy and Charlie’s, too, because there’s not much choice here about who to trust._

The hallway ends in a large, sturdy wooden door with a large metal lock, and the person in the lead swings it open to reveal a brightly lit room full of chairs and tables. It’s cozy and cheerful, especially compared to the dank dimness of the holding cells. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Charlie waver in the doorway, then step into the light, swallowing. _It’s her first mission,_ he remembers suddenly. _And she just watched her friend get carted away to who knows where._ He steps forward and puts a hand on her shoulder and she leans into the touch, smiling shakily up at him.

“You doing okay, kid?” he asks quietly.

She nods. “I’m hanging in there. Let’s just figure out how to get Jess back, find SG-5 and get home, and then I’ll be great.”

He nods, putting an arm around her shoulder and giving her a squeeze. “I hear you on that.”

“Dean!” a familiar voice calls his name and he looks up to see Pamela Barnes, member of the missing SG-5, striding out of a side door.

Dean laughs out loud and strides forward, pulling her into his arms. “Speak of the devil!” He holds her tightly for a moment, then releases her to Charlie’s embrace, then Sam’s. “What happened? Where’s the team?”

Pam’s face gets serious for a moment, eyes dark. “Martin– Martin couldn’t handle it, Dean, just like we thought. He got paranoid and it threw Frank off his game. Next thing  we knew we were being chased by a team of Jaffa in a pair of stolen cruisers in orbit.”

Sam speaks up next, brushing a hand through his hair. “Is, uh, is Madison okay?” 

“She’s fine. She’s doing some repair work on the cruiser we were in– we landed it out in the desert. We’re lucky these guys found us because I don’t know how long we’d have made it out there.” She sighs heavily. “But Frank and Martin– they were flying erratically, and I think they were fighting for control of the ship. They couldn’t dodge it, Dean. They–” she swallows, mouth taut with anger and grief. “They weren’t ready to be out here. They didn’t make it.”

Dean nods. “You’re right. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. But we’re gonna get you and Madison home, all right?”

“And my new ship?” Her voice is a little steadier and there’s a hint of her old charm. 

“And your ship.”  

He turns to Cas, who’s speaking to a dark-skinned woman at one of the tables. He looks up and gives Dean what could almost pass as a smile, then points at the woman beside him. “Dean, this is Missouri. She–” he glances at the woman, then continues, “–she helps people.”

“Good way of putting it, boy,” says Missouri, stepping forward. “Dean Winchester, correct?”

Dean nods, wary. “Help people with what?”

She gives him a smile that’s half sympathy, half intimidation “With whatever they need. We’re not exactly in the lap of luxury here,” she indicates the room around her, “whether that’s food or medicine or a way off Paradiso.” She looks closer. “That _is_ what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

Dean starts to nod, but Sam pushes past him. “No!” His voice is loud and several people look up. “No.” He says again, quieter. “We have to find Jess, Dean. I can’t– we can’t leave without her.” His eyes are pleading, broken, and Dean’s heart breaks a little in turn.

 _I can't let Sam down on this,_ he decides. _Doesn't matter what it takes. We're getting Jess back if I have to break into the pyramid myself._ He sighs and turns to Missouri, not meeting Castiel's eyes. "Yeah. Let’s get Pam and Madison home first. But then– we need a way back into the pyramid first."

\-----

Getting the two surviving members of SG-5 (and the cruiser) off Paradiso is surprisingly easy. Less surprisingly, it’s going to take more work to get back into the pyramid than it did to get out of it the day previous. Sam pulls himself together, meeting the rebels and poring over plans. Dean knows his brother well enough to know that this is the best way for him to cope, and leaves him in charge of the planning. Despite his puppy-dog looks and usually gentle, bookwormy nature, Sam Winchester is not someone to mess with. He’s got a taste for revenge a mile wide and a vindictive streak Dean’s only glimpsed in their prank wars. He’s deeply glad to have never been on the receiving end of Sam’s real temper. He doesn’t envy whoever’s holding Jess.

Castiel is watching Sam with just as much intensity as Dean is, holding back in the shadows while his fellow Jaffa plan. He’s the only one whose symbol is raised and metallic, indicating his rank– the rebels all have the flat, black version that symbolizes low-status Jaffa in the goa’uld’s hierarchy. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Missouri start towards Castiel and he relaxes a little. _She’ll take care of him. He’s not my responsibility anyway._ He turns to scan the room for Charlie, making sure she’s alright, and grins when he sees her gesticulating wildly over a pile of machinery, surrounded by a crowd of young women and men who are watching her with adoration in their eyes. _Yeah, she’s good,_ he thinks.

Sam calls Dean’s name and he joins his brother at the table, watching closely as he traces a path on a sheet of parchment. “This is the cell they had us in,” says Sam, tapping his finger on a square of the blueprint. “They probably took Jess to the holding room here–” he drags his finger down a hallway and into a wider room. “It’s apparently guarded pretty closely, like Castiel said, but there’s a couple of entrances. If we can get a big enough distraction, we can get in this one–” he points to a small door in a corner– “that’s sort of an emergency exit.”

One of the other Jaffa, a pretty redhead at his left elbow, cuts in. “The only problem with that is that it leads to Michael’s private suite as well as to the exit. So we’ll have to make sure he’s not waiting in there.”

“I can make sure of that,” says a deep voice at Dean’s back. Castiel has moved from his corner to stand just behind Dean, looking over his shoulder. “I’ll make certain Michael has something else to focus on.” 

Dean nods and catches Sam’s eye. “You good with Cas leading the distraction, Sammy?”

Sam turns, eyes narrowing as he stares down the Jaffa from his four extra inches of height. Their eyes lock and hold for a few seconds, then Sam sighs and nods back. “Yeah. Yeah.” He takes a shuddery breath and lowers his voice. “Castiel, we’re counting on you on this, all right? Jess, she’s–”

Castiel puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder and gives him a solemn look. “She’s your wife. I understand.”

Watching him, Dean wonders suddenly if he’s lost someone special, whether there’s some lady Jaffa back at the pyramid who’s wondering why her husband hasn’t come home. The idea bothers him, though he can’t really explain why. He tries to put it out of his head as he straightens. “That’s it then. We’ll work out the details after we get some rations out.” He turns to Castiel, suddenly grinning. “How about it, Cas? You ever tried salisbury steak-flavored MRE?”

Castiel cocks his head to the side, eyes on Dean. “I have not. Is that a delicacy of your culture?”

Dean throws his head back in his first real laugh since Jess’s capture and even Sam cracks a smile. “Sure, buddy.” He throws an arm over Cas’s shoulder and starts leading him towards the fireplace. “Come on, lemme buy you dinner.”

\-----

The plan’s deceptively simple, really.

Castiel will lead the team to distract Michael. He's planning to forge signs of the Asgard– apparently one of the goa'uld's greatest enemies– nearby, then raise the alarm. Michael apparently won’t be able to resist the chance to destroy them. 

Dean’s going to take Charlie and a few Jaffa and try and blow a hole in the side of the pyramid to draw away some of the guards, while Sam’s going to lead a team directly into the room they’re holding Jess as soon as he hears Dean’s explosion go off. 

Dean’s trying not to think about how no plan this simple ever works out right.

They start at dawn, Castiel’s team heading out first. Dean pulls him aside just before he gathers them together, grabbing his elbow and stopping him in his tracks. Cas turns and looks at him curiously and Dean forgets what he was going to say and instead just mutters a quick, “Be careful, all right? I want to make sure that crappy MRE isn’t the only Earth food you get to try.”

Cas’s mouth quirks up in a tiny smile. “Your burgers sound delicious, Dean. I would like to try them, if this mission goes as planned.”

Dean claps him on the back, letting his hand linger a moment. “Yeah. You, uh, you’ll like ‘em. I'll grill 'em myself when we get Jess back, alright?”

Castiel nods solemnly and pulls away to rally his team. Dean watches him go, wondering why he’s so worried about a guy he’s only known a little more than a day. _Pull it together, Winchester,_ his dad’s voice echoes in his head. _Just because he saved your life doesn’t make him your friend._ He tries to listen to that voice instead of the quiet one whispering, _He’s risking his position and his life and his entire world to help you._

Sam goes next, and Dean’s never going to get used to watching his little brother walk away at the head of a team that’s about to do something incredibly dangerous. He tries to remember that Sam’s a capable adult with two degrees he can talk about and one he’d be shot for even naming as well as extensive combat training, but somehow when Dean looks at him he sees the eight-year-old who used to follow him home from school because the bullies didn’t like his books or his clothes or his hair. He’s never gotten used to this new adult Sam and he’s not sure he ever will.

He and Charlie go next, following a few minutes behind Sam’s team in Jaffa-style robes borrowed from their hosts. Missouri had given Dean a stern look as she penciled in Michael’s symbol on his forehead, and had told him to make sure he got the robes back in one piece because they don’t exactly grow on trees. Dean had smiled and told her he’d be careful and her expression had softened a little before she marched away, muttering under her breath about careless men and their adventures.

Dean watches her go back into the tiny door in the wall, and realizes she must watch groups like this leave all the time and never know whether they're coming back. It must be easier to simply not stay for the goodbyes.

He turns to Charlie, who gives him a thumbs up, then to his three Jaffa companions. The first and ostensible leader is Anna, the redhead from earlier, who's watching him closely. He gives her a smirk; she smiles back sweetly and he files the expression away in case they've got time to revisit it later. There's definitely a possibility of something there.

The two young men, Samandriel and Inias, are watching him closely as well. Dean had noticed both speaking with Castiel earlier, in quiet tones. Cas had embraced both, one at a time, and there'd been a conflicted expression in his gaze when his eyes had flicked to Dean and Sam and their teams. Both men are intent on the goal but Dean gets the feeling neither have been in the resistance long. He's seen it before: the obsessive devotion of a new member of a movement. The older members seem more weary, with the look of old soldiers who've seen enough to shatter their idealism. Both Samandriel and Inias watch Castiel with the close attention of devotees.

They start towards the pyramid, Dean shifting uncomfortably in his rough robes as Charlie smirks from beside him, her robes swirling around her in a comfortable tumble of moss-green fabric. He glares and yanks on his own dark khaki robes until they’re more settled on his frame  before glancing up at the sun, just barely clearing the horizon.

 _Cas should be deep in the desert by now,_ he thinks. As if summoned by his thought a cloud of dust rises from the side of the pyramid in front of them and he sees figures glittering with golden jewelry and drifting linen racing into the desert. _Score one for Cas_.

Their party reaches the street that runs around the edge of the pyramid and pauses in the still-shadowed corner beside the closed market stalls. Samandriel slips out front and walks up to the guards, all casual stride and calm demeanor. Dean’s gotta hand it to the kid: he sure can play a role.

He chats with the guard at the main door to the pyramid, slowly drawing his attention away from his post, and Dean picks his moment carefully, then slips behind them with Charlie and Anna and Inias, hugging the wall until they reach the darkened backside of the fortress ship. They stand there, keeping still and silent, until Samandriel rejoins them.

“It was easy,” he says with a wide, dimpled grin. “He hadn’t heard of anyone from our regiment defecting at all, I think.”

According to Missouri, Samandriel had only joined the rebels recently. The regiment he’d deserted from is one of the most well-respected among Michael’s forces, and it seems the goa’uld is doing everything he can to keep morale up and news of the rebels suppressed.

Samandriel’s rank had been low, but he’d been well-loved by the other Jaffa while he was a loyal soldier. He’d never even engaged in combat until after his defection; he was barely considered an adult when he’d made the decision to join Missouri’s rebellion.

He points to a section of pyramid that’s still white and rough, not sand-weathered like most of the stone. “That section is newer than the rest, and may be weaker. Perhaps we should start there?” He directs the question to Anna, who nods and pulls her bag from her shoulder.

“Dean? Do you agree?” Anna’s blue-green eyes focus on him, questioning.

Dean nods. “You guys are the experts. Sounds good to me.” He checks his watch. “Sam and his team should be in position by now. You ready?”

Samandriel and Inias nod.

“Then let’s get to it.”

The two young Jaffa start toward the weak section, picking their way carefully through the street. The sun is rising higher in the sky, but they’re still in shadow, though they won’t be for long. Anna hands Charlie a brick of C4 from her bag, and Charlie starts pulling wires from her own. Charlie finishes wiring the bricks, hanging them off to Inias and Samandriel, who stick them to the wall where Anna indicates.

Dean keeps one eye on his team while the other watches the street carefully for any sign of guards. He’s not thrilled about being exposed like this, even for only a few minutes, but it’s the best plan they’d come up with and he’s trying to make the best of it.

“Done,” calls Charlie quietly, stepping back. “We’ve got a remote and can blow it any time.”

Dean sighs and looks at his watch again, sending a silent prayer that Sam’s team’s got their end figured out and that Cas is still keeping Michael busy out in the desert. “All right. Let’s get back to the front before we hit the button."

Inias takes over the distraction this time, and Dean takes a moment from his worry to enjoy that this Jaffa's tactic seems to be to flirt with the guard rather than distract him with information or polite conversation. Anna catches his eye and grins at him. “Inias has always been popular with the men. And the women, actually.”

He chuckles. “Good kids you got here.”

She smiles back, her expression turning fond. “Yes. I know.”

As soon as Inias rejoins them, he whispers, “The vendors will start arriving in a few moments at their stalls, apparently.”

Anna nods. “We should move.”

Charlie looks to Dean, who points at the controller in her hand. “Time to get this show on the road. Cover your ears, folks.”

She hesitates a moment, then hits the button, and there’s a _BANG_ that rocks the whole square. The guards from the door rush around the corner and Dean pushes Inias forward, then Samandriel, as the two redheads race towards the now-unguarded door to the pyramid.

Dean ushers them all into the alcove while Charlie frantically taps on the keypad, muttering “ _c’mon c’mon c’mon”_ under her breath. The door slides open with a _CLICK_ after a few agonizing moments and they pile through, crowding on the side of the hallway as the door _snicks_ shut behind them. Dean leans beside a panting, pale Charlie and claps a hand on her shoulder.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? You were kind of Han Solo, for a minute.”

She gives him a stink-eye, muttering, “That makes you an ewok. And I opened the door, _unlike_ Han.”

Dean grins, pulling her into a one-armed hug. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re much cooler than Han right now.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Dean,” interjects Anna, “perhaps we should continue?”

Dean looks up at the three Jaffa, who are all watching him with varying levels of confusion. “Dude, I gotta get you all to watch Star Wars when this is done.”

Charlie snorts beside him, and they start down the hallway.

Sam’s team is just reaching the door as they do, and they’re a little dusty and looking a lot annoyed. “Roof caved in,” he says shortly, shaking plaster from his hair and brushing past Dean to grab the doorknob and throw open the door.

Heads fly up from the cushions strewn across the room, and Dean stares around for  familiar faces. There’s no Jess, no Pam, no Madison, and definitely no Frank or Martin.

Sam’s already striding up to the first woman by the door and asking, “Was there a blonde woman here? She would have just come in today?”

The woman stares at him, pale, and a young girl beside her responds instead. “Was her name Jess?”

Sam turns and crouches in front of her. “Yes! Jess. She’s my wife. Please, tell me where she went?”

The girl shakes her head. “He took her. He took her away.”

Sam blanches, standing and turning helplessly to Dean, who reaches out a comforting hand to Sam’s shoulder. “We’ll find her, Sammy. We will.”

The door slams open and footsteps ring through the room. "Dean!" It's Cas and his team, covered in sweat and panting hard as they burst into the room. The vessels all just back behind Dean's team, crowding in together with wide eyes, and Dean leaves it to Charlie and Anna to explain as he zeroes in on Cas, who's skidding to a halt in front of a large cabinet. "It's Michael. He's using Jess as his vessel. We distracted him as long as we could, but he saw through the deception and he is on his way here. We need to hide, now!" He grabs Dean by the arm as the rest of the three teams duck behind curtains, plants, anything they can find. A few of the vessels try to follow, but Cas calls out, "No! You all need to be in the room when he returns. Act as if nothing is wrong." He watches the last of his Jaffa leap into a pile of cushions and then slides the door shut behind Dean, enclosing them in the cabinet. He puts a finger to his lips, sliding the other around Dean's waist, the only space it can fit in the small space.

Dean can hear his own heart thumping in the silence, and tries to will it quieter because there's no way it can't be heard by everyone in the room. 

Cas is pressed so close to him he can feel the other man’s heart beating just as fast, and he’s about to try and find a way to pull away before his body starts taking an interest in the warmth against him. He’s just realizing it’s a lost cause and letting himself lean in even closer when a door slams shut outside in the main room. Dean freezes, cheek brushing against Cas’s and the other man’s breath in his ear. They stand there, pressed against each other knee to shoulder, and Dean feels Cas’s breath stuttering against his neck as the sounds of troops marching into the room get louder and closer, then halt.

And suddenly a voice rings out. It’s almost familiar, but it’s distorted and cuts through the room like a knife. “Hello, my vessels. Have you been well in my absence?”

There’s a murmuring then, voices fearful and indistinct, and Dean tries to focus on them and not on the hot press of Cas against him.

The strange voice cuts through again. “Do you like my new vessel? I believe I will enjoy this one. She’s very–” there’s a pause, “–vocal. But that will not last. I suppose breaking her will be a diverting challenge. I’ve been trapped out of a body for so long that it will be a welcome distraction.”

There’s a muted gasp, and Dean swears silently under his breath, feeling Cas tense against him. The room goes quiet again and the footsteps come closer to their door, then pass by.

"Are you hiding something from me, my vessels?" asks that terrifying voice. There's a hint of a smile in it, amused with something sinister lurking below the surface and Dean can't help the shiver that runs through him.

Cas leans even closer, mouth millimeters from Dean's ear, and whispers, "Michael does not like games." He's wound tightly and Dean can feel the other man's muscles almost quivering against him. 

"You think he's going to find them?"

Cas's eyelashes ghost against Dean's cheek as a sigh brushes the shell of his ear and Dean can’t suppress a very different shiver from the earlier one. "I think this is going to be much more difficult than we anticipated."

There's a tearing sound from outside in the room and then things begin to happen very fast.

Cas throws open the door just in time for Dean to catch sight of Jess's face, curls sleek under a gold circlet and eyes burning the unnatural yellow of the Goa'uld. Sam is lunging at her, nearly catching her wrist, but she moves preternaturally fast and backhands him across the jaw. He falls back and her Jaffa begin to rush to her aid as Dean sprints toward his brother. He punches a tall, slender Jaffa in the face, then turns to block a staff swung by a tall blonde woman just as a blur of movement streaks past him and stabs the big man looming over Dean in the chest. Cas swings, lands a sweeping blow across another man’s temple, then yanks open the door towards the main pyramid entrance.

“Anna!” He yells across the room and the redhead turns, her staff barely visible as she fights off the surrounding soldiers. “Get the vessels to safety!”

She nods and spins again, neatly clipping a woman with a knife in the jaw with the butt of her staff, then holds out a hand to the nearest vessel. “You. Get them moving.”

The woman stares for a moment, and Dean’s sure she’s about to crumble. But then she swallows visibly and stands, her long silk gown rustling around her, and starts yanking her fellow captives towards the door Anna’s leading towards. Dean grins and catches Cas’s eye as the last prisoner passes the door. Cas nods, and they redouble their efforts, fighting towards the knot of Jaffa around Jess.

They’ve made it almost to Sam, who’s struggling up and has wracked up a pretty serious body count of enemy Jaffa when suddenly there’s a zat shot and the last Jaffa defending Jess falls.

Dean swings around, looking for the shooter, but the only person with a zat in the room is–

“ _Jess!”_ cries Sam as her weapon falls to the floor, and sure enough, the unnatural light is flickering in Jess’s eyes and her hands are clenching and releasing at her sides.

Cas sucks in a sharp breath at Dean’s side. “She’s fighting Michael. She’s actually breaking his control over her.”

Dean nods quickly and Cas steps forward, Jess’s pleading eyes meeting his, and he whispers “ _I’m sorry_ ,” before grabbing a fallen Intar gun and stunning her with a single blast. She falls, limp, into Sam’s arms and he hoists her into a fireman’s carry.

The room is full of smoking ruins of drapery, furniture, and the unconscious and dead bodies of Michael’s guards. Inias is the only one of the rebels injured; his arm is hanging limply by his side as Samandriel frets around him with a strip of cloth he’s fashioned into bandage. He’s not bothered by his wound as far as Dean can tell; he’s gesticulating wildly with his good arm, pointing at unconscious guards as Samandriel nods patiently. 

Cas smiles fondly at the two younger men and shakes his head. Dean calls “Move out!” and starts down the hallway with Cas at his side and Sam and Charlie at his heels, Jess slung gently across Sam’s back. The rest of the Jaffa follow in a mass down the hallway.

They don’t meet much resistance in the corridors: just a few solitary guards who they dispatch easily, and a few others who recognize a rebel or two join the group headed for the exit. All of them do a double-take at Castiel, who meets their eyes squarely, and Dean remembers suddenly that Cas hasn’t disobeyed like this before, not the way Anna and Inias and all of them have. He shoots Castiel a covert glance, and sees the other man holding his head high above tense shoulders. It’s clear he’s ready to be out of the pyramid and the spotlight.

The little door to the hidden room is locked again, but this time all Inias has to do is knock five times in a particular pattern and the door swings open. The group filters in, trooping down the long hallway, and Missouri meets them with a woman at her side

 

The woman is tall and sturdy, with a cautious face and deep-set blue eyes under long dark blonde hair. She introduces herself as Lenore of the Tok’ra. Cas’s eyes widen at that, and he leans over to Dean.

“The Tok’ra are rogue goa’uld. They believe the goa’uld should be an equal partner, symbiotic rather than parasitic.”

“Seriously?!”

Cas nods. “They are scorned among the goa’uld as weak, and as traitors to their race.”

Dean whistles under his breath. “No shit.”

Lenore looks over the group, then then stands in front of the still-unconscious but securely tied Jess.

“She’s been his vessel for only a day, right?”

Dean nods as Sam reaches out to brush a lock of hair from Jess’s face.

“Then this shouldn’t be too difficult.” She reaches in her bag and pulls out a syringe, attaching a needle to the top.

Dean swallows and helps Lenore lean Jess forward, brushing hair from the back of her neck until the still-pink scar of goa’uld entry is visible.

“Hold her still.”

She slides the needle into the center of the wound, depressing the plunger slowly, and Jess thrashes against Dean’s restraining hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charlie leading Sam into the other room and he gives her a quick look of gratitude.

Then all hell breaks loose as the flaps of skin part and a slimy head pierces through the flesh. Lenore uses a pair of what look like salad tongs to get a grip on the scaly head, using a second tool shaped like a candle snuffer to hold its four-pronged mouth shut. As the tail leaves Jess's body with a sickening, slurping crunch, she stiffens, a shuddering groan escaping her lax lips, then relaxes. Just as Lenore takes the thrashing goa’uld and seals it in what seems to be some sort of locking bucket with glass sides, it releases a fine mist that's contained by the quickly slammed lid. Lenore releases a long breath, hands shaking with a quick tremor, and wipes her hands on a cloth. She gives Dean a blinding smile. "Looks like it worked. We got him before he could poison her, and I don't think he left anything nasty behind."

Dean relaxes a little, but can't help keeping an eye on the caged Goa'uld as Lenore leaves under the cover of darkness.

They all troop out a few hours later under the cover of pre-dawn gloom: Dean, Charlie, Sam carrying the unconscious Jess, Castiel keeping a close watch for anything suspicious, and the nearly forty potential vessel Michael had been keeping hostage. There are no delays and everything seems to be going as planned, but Dean can’t help but be a little nervous as they reach the DHD and gate.

The vessels separate into three groups, based on their home planets, and Charlie hands a small device to each leader. "It's a radio transponder," she explains, using a silver sharpie to write Earth's address on the back of each black box. "Dial this address and then hit this--" she indicates a small red button in the center of the device, " and then you'll be able to speak to us on Earth and we can open the covering that's over our stargate. If the Goa'uld ever come back and you need our help, call us, okay?"

The vessels nod, thanking her profusely until she blushes, and Dean watches her with pride. It'd been her idea to pass out the radios, and he could already tell it was gaining them three more planets of allies in this sector.

He turns to Cas as Charlie begins dialing the first address. He's where he's been all day,  just behind Dean, and Dean thinks maybe he should be finding it creepy or weird but somehow it just isn't when Cas does it. 

"How about you?" He asks, watching the freed captives make their way through the gate and towards their homes. "You going to stay here, help Missouri and her people?"

Cas nods grimly. "They need every man and woman they can get, Dean. You've seen some of what they– what _we_ – are up against."

Nodding, Dean hesitates, then pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen. He leans against a rock and scribbles down an address, the same one Charlie's been writing on the radios, then pauses another moment before writing another. “Here.” He thrusts the paper gruffly at Castiel, who takes it. “That’s Earth’s address.” He unclips his radio from his belt. “You saw how to use this, right?” Cas nods, taking the radio and tucking it in a pocket. “You need anything– _anything,_ Cas– you call me, all right? Dial the first number and use the radio. And if you ever need a place to ‘gate to, use the second one. It’s a– it’s a safe place, okay? And you can dial us from there.”

“I will.” Cas’s eyes meet his as the last vessel wormhole closes. “Dean–” His gaze is intent, full of emotion and something Dean’s not really ready to handle, if he’s honest with himself. 

And that’s when everything goes to shit.

Really, he should have known it was going too well.

Charlie’s just finished dialing Earth and the chevrons are starting to spin when there’s the sound of pounding feet from the distance. 

“It’s Michael’s army!” Charlie yells, drawing her firearm as Sam pulls Jess’s unconscious body closer to his chest and pulls out a zat he’d picked up in the pyramid.

“ _Shit_ ,” Dean swears, grabbing the transmitter from his bag to send their code to Earth. He fumbles it and a bronzed hand steadies the box. He nods his thanks to Cas, who’s staring back at his former companions as they race towards them.

“Dean, you need to hurry,” he says, urgency in his tone.

“Yeah, Cas, I know!” Dean growls, and Cas shakes his head, paling in a way that makes Dean look up as well as soon as the code’s entered. There’s a cloud of dust in the distance, too thick for him to see through, but Cas’s eyes are wide and there’s fear coursing through the Jaffa.

“Dean, we need to move _now!_ ” Cas wraps tight fingers around his wrist and tugs, pushing Sam towards the gate with his other hand. Sam glances at Dean, who nods, then takes the direction and starts towards the gate with Charlie beside him helping him to steady Jess’s limp form.

“Castiel!” cries a voice from the approaching group. “Return to us, Brother!”

The speaker is a man with a silver insignia on his forehead and a bald head that glistens in the desert sun. His skin is a rich shade of chocolate and his voice is commanding. Cas’s eyes flick to him, then back to Dean, and there’s a deep sorrow in them that makes Dean’s heart clench for the other man as they finish the radio exchange with Earth.

 _He’s no use to the rebellion now that he’s been identified_ , Dean realizes as the cloud of dust solidifies into approaching aircraft. He makes a split-second decision, running on instinct.

Dean watches Sam and Charlie to pass the event horizon holding Jess, then grabs Cas by the arm and drags them both through the wormhole. They tumble down the ramp, narrowly avoiding the stretcher Sam is laying Jess out on, and Dean yells “ _Shut the fucking iris!”_ into Victor’s shocked face as he lands with a thud across Castiel’s tensed body. The general’s never had trouble reacting to the unexpected, and he immediately relays the message to Kevin at the controls who slams the button just as the nose of a glider pokes through the gate and is sheared off by the quickly closing iris. It clatters to the ground amid shouts from personnel as Jess is rushed to the infirmary with Sam close on the gurney’s tail.

Dean accepts the hand Victor’s holding out, panting slightly, and looks up into the eyes of his commanding officer, who gives him a slow smile. “Somehow I think you’ve got a story for me,” says Victor, glancing back at Jess and then down at Castiel, who’s looking around warily at the soldiers and equipment surrounding the gate.

Dean snorts as he helps Cas to his feet. “Yeah, sir. I really do.”

\-----

Charlie’s sitting on a ledge in the loading dock, a bottle of whiskey beside her, staring up at the starry Colorado sky. Dean joins her silently, taking the offered drink and watching a plane’s blinking lights cross the sky.

“It’s a little different looking up there now,” she says, quietly. 

He looks over, and she gives him a little smile, just a twist of her lips, and he realizes how tired she looks.

“Knowing what’s up there, I mean. It’s hard to just– look, you know?” she shakes her head. “When we found the stargate, I thought it would be like– like Next Generation, or Asimov.”

“But it’s more Voyager or Farscape, right?” says Dean, taking another drag on the bottle.

She smiles, a fuller one this time. “Yeah. It’s just us and our ragtag bunch up there, fighting a war that’s maybe too big for us. It’s not like we’re Picard, making grand alliances across the stars. We’re just John Creighton, stuck learning it all on the fly and dodging disasters as they come.”

Dean hands her back the whiskey and she takes a gulp. “I think we’re more like Janeway, actually.”

She turns to him, eyes questioning, and he smiles. “We’re figuring it out as we go, but we’re making friends and learning how everything out there works.” He hesitates for a moment, then continues. “I mean, look at Cas. We picked him up and look how much we’ve already learned from him.”

She snorts. “Seriously? You’re making him _Neelix_ in this metaphor?” Her gaze turns sly. “Does that make you Kes?”

Dean is horrified to feel himself blushing a little, and his hope that Charlie can’t see in the darkness is shattered when she bursts out into full on giggles. He glares at her, but she just laughs more.

“ _Anyway_ ,” he continues, deciding to ignore her laughter, “we know about these good goa’ulds, the Tok’ra, too, all because we went out there.” He gestures with the bottle towards the sky. “All I’m saying is that we’re doing pretty all right, all things considered.” He smiles at her as she sobers. “You did good on this one, kid.”

She sighs and avoids his eyes. “Dean...”

Something in her tone makes him sit up straight and turn to face her full on.

“General Henricksen offered me a different position, and I think I’m going to take it.”

“What? Why?” His mind instantly jumps to _something’s wrong_ and then _What did I do_ and she puts a hand on his knee, meeting his gaze.

“Dean, I don’t _like_ fieldwork. Not like you and Sam and–” she swallows, “–and Jess do. I thought it would be exciting, but it’s just sandy and scary and there’s a lot of running. This other thing– it’s a new division, Dean. I’m going to be working directly with the gate technology, trying to find out how it works and reverse engineer it for Earth’s benefit.”

Her eyes are sparkling with the excitement he recognizes from when she and Jess had met on the original stargate dig, and he realizes he hasn’t seen her like this since she got the the base and onto his team. With a pang, he realizes she might have a point.

She’s watching him with a nervous expression he’s never seen before, now that the excitement has faded in the face of his silence, and he forces a smile on his face. “Yeah. Yeah, Charlie, that sounds– it sounds awesome.” He snags the whiskey and takes another sip. “Gonna miss you off-world, though.”

She smiles and leans back, lacing fingers behind her head. “I know.”

\-----

Dean watches his brother examine Jess, brushing off her weak protests, and smiles. They’ve had a rough few days, but they’ve got Jess back and free of aliens and parasites and Sam’s smile is wide enough to outshine the sun.

“Your brother seems happy,” says Castiel from behind him. “I’m glad we found her.”

Dean turns to the Jaffa, who’s looking a little out of place in his robes surrounded by military personnel and the bulkheads of the base. “Yeah, me too.” he glances back at his brother. “If Sammy’s happy, I’m happy.”

When he turns back to Castiel, he meets intent blue eyes staring into his own. “I don’t think that’s true.”

He bristles, but Cas continues before he can open his mouth.

“You are content when your brother is happy. But– Dean, your happiness can’t depend on his. Even Sam wouldn’t say it should.”

Dean sighs, too tired to argue. “Dunno.” He leans against the wall as Sam helps Jess turn and sit on the edge of the cot, her hand rubbing the back of her neck absently where the gauze is taped securely to the wound. “What’re you going to do now, Cas?”

Castiel shakes his head, looking down at his hands. “I– I’m not sure.” He leans next to Dean, backing out of the way of the people rushing by. “I can’t return to my people, that much is certain.” He shakes his head, a slight smile quirking his lips. “Before this, I believe I was content to stay there, serving Michael forever. Before you, Dean. I wouldn’t have considered even leaving the pyramid complex or the city unless I needed to for a mission. But now–” He meets Dean’s gaze again. “Now I know how much is out there. I’ve seen some of what you do and what you see. I want to explore, and meet people, and help them. Especially my own people. Dean, we’ve spent so long chained to the goa’uld, believing them to be our direct link to our father. But now– I have doubts. I’m not their tool any longer. And maybe I can help my people learn how to be free, like I am now, not just on my planet but across the universe.”

Dean finds himself staring at the Jaffa, enraptured by the light burning in his eyes. He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away. “You know– there’s uh, there’s a spot open on our team.” He’s going for casual, but he’s afraid it comes out a little more hopeful instead. “Charlie got– she’s gonna stay on base from now on. You could stick around. If you wanted. Come on missions with us as our, uh, local expert.”

Cas is staring at him intently, and Dean continues. “We could use someone who knows their way around a pyramid ship. And you can tell us about the goa’uld, too. And you can visit your people, still, and help them with their fight if you can. They’re just a ‘gate trip away.”

Cas swallows. “I– I would like that, Dean. Thank you.”

“I’ll ask the General, then,” replies Dean. “You wanna get out of here?”

“What do you mean?”

Dean smiles. “Victor said it was fine for you to get off base tonight, now that Doc Turner cleared you from quarantine and you’re all debriefed. So, uh, you can come stay with me, if you’d like. I’ve got a spare room.” 

Cas still looks uncertain.

“Dude, if you don’t come with me I’m just gonna sit here and worry about Sammy and Jess all night. So you’d be doing me a favor.”

Hesitantly, Cas nods. “All right.” He glances around the cement-walled, bustling base. “I hope your whole world isn’t like this place.”

Dean grins. “Oh, buddy, just you wait.”

\-----

Cas is suspicious of the Impala at first; wheeled transit isn’t exactly common among the goa’uld. But he runs gentle fingers along her smooth lines and smiles when Dean points her out in a proud voice. “She’s beautiful, Dean,” he replies. “I can see how much she means to you and how well you’ve cared for her.”

Dean blushes a little, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he fumbles the keys in his other hand and gets the door open. After a moment of examination, Cas follows suit, and Dean winces when the Jaffa slams the door a little harder than necessary. “Careful with my baby, there, Cas!”

Castiel turns to him, eyes narrowed. “You birthed this machine?”

Dean starts to chuckle, then breaks into full on laughter as the engine roars to life. “It’s an expression, Cas. A– an endearment.”

Cas is still squinting at him, head tilted in confusion, and Dean shakes his head. “You know what? Nevermind.” He backs out of the spot carefully, arm slung across the back of the bench seat just an inch from the back of Castiel’s neck. Cas is shivering despite the USAF hoodie Dean insisted he wear; desert nights on P3X-263 are cold, but they’re nothing compared to the chill of Colorado in December. There’s also nothing like the fat snowflakes drifting down around them as the Impala pulls out of the base’s garage and onto the main road. Cas stares out the window, wide-eyed, at the trees and hills and snowy plains while Dean speeds through the darkening dusk.

They drive in silence for a while; Cas watching the distant mountains as the sun sets behind them. Finally, he turns to Dean. “Your world is very different than mine.”

“You’ve been to other planets that are more like mine, though, right? On missions for Michael?”

Cas sighs. “I was the head of Michael’s Pyramid Guard, Dean. I’ve travelled to other worlds, but I’ve never left the ship except on Paradiso. It’s been our– it’s been Michael’s home base for nearly fifteen years, and before that, it was my home.”

“Man, you’ve been stuck in that desert your whole life?” Dean whistles.

Cas stiffens. “That _desert_ is my home, Dean. Or–or it _was_.”

“Yeah. I know, Cas. I– I’m sorry, buddy. It sucks.” Dean sighs and turns down his street. Cas is looking out the window again, but the wonder is gone from his face.

Dean pulls into the driveway, hitting the garage button, and parks neatly between Sam’s old bike tottering precariously on its kickstand and the neatly-organized tool cabinets against the wall.

Cas follows him out of the car, treading carefully around the unfamiliar building and through the connecting door into Dean’s kitchen. Dean sets his bag down on a chair and opens the fridge, pulling out a six-pack and a package of ground beef and setting them on the counter.

“Ready for some traditional Earth food, Cas?”

Cas leans closer, staring down at the bottles suspiciously. 

“It’s beer. It’s, uh– do you guys drink alcohol?”

Cas smiles at that. “We do, yes.”

Dean snorts. “Oh yeah, I remember Sam mentioning that. He had a, uh, bad experience with Jaffa liquor, I think. It was stronger than he expected. If you can handle that, this’ll be no problem for you.” He pulls out a bottle opener and pops the cap off, then passes the bottle to Cas, who examines it for a moment before sipping it hesitantly.

“Thank you, Dean.” He takes another sip, smiling slightly. 

“No problem, buddy.” Dean drinks a gulp of his own beer, then tears open the package and dumps the meat in a bowl, tossing in spices and chopped ham and a little shredded cheese before firing up a pan on the stove. “If it were summer, I’d do these on the grill, but stove’ll have to do for now.”

Cas watches him closely as he forms patties and tosses them in the pan, then washes his hands and pops buns in the toaster and pulls out cheese and lettuce and condiments, then flips the burgers neatly onto their uncooked side. 

“It smells delicious, Dean,” Cas says, his eyes fluttering shut as he leans close to breathe in the smell of sizzling beef, curving around Dean who’s standing over the pan. The warmth of his bare shoulder burns through Dean’s sleeve as he brushes against him. Cas is wearing a borrowed undershirt and pair of fatigue bottoms and there’s something about the casual look on the Jaffa that’s been distracting him all night every time he glances over. Cas looks up and their eyes meet, and Dean’s not sure why he’s blushing like a freaking teanager but he tears his gaze away. He turns to pull the buns from the oven and slide them onto a plate and Cas turns towards him.

“Dude, personal space?” Dean stares from inches away, reaching for the spatula and trying not to show how flustered he’s getting (because _what the fuck?_ ).

Cas tilts his head, eyes boring into Dean, and doesn’t move. 

“That means back off, Cas. We, uh, need a certain amount of space around us. Um, humans, that is. To be comfortable.”

Cas’s eyes narrow even further for a moment, then he steps back. “My apologies.”

Dean lets out a breath of relief, shoulders relaxing a little, trying not to miss the closeness. He avoids Cas’s eyes, catching sight of carefully hidden hurt when he catches a glimpse of the other man’s face, and sighs as he brushes a hand over his face. “I’m, uh– I’m sorry, Cas. It’s not you, just– I need some space to think, all right. But, um, I’m glad you’re here, you know?”

Cas’s face has softened incrementally, and he accepts the plate Dean hands him with a quiet thanks. Dean explains each condiment, laughing as Cas makes a face at the tangyness of the ketchup and takes a second taste of the mustard before piling it onto his bun. He scorns the lettuce and covers his burger with extra cheese and thickly sliced tomatoes.

They sit on Dean’s loveseat, the only piece of furniture he’s managed to buy for his living room since he bought the condo just after joining the Stargate program. He doesn’t spend much time here, and it shows.

Dean watches closely as Cas bites into the burger and smiles broadly when Cas lets out a delighted noise through the mouthful of beef.

“Dean this is–” he swallows and moans again, licking his lips. “This is delicious.”

Dean makes an incoherent noise, munching his own burger to cover his– discomfort? –awkwardness? He’s not even sure what to call it, but he’s surprisingly disappointed that Cas only eats two burgers before settling back on the seat with a hand over his stomach.

Dean’s not ready for bed yet– despite their long day and the two beers, he’s still weirdly wired, and glancing at Cas he’s pretty sure the other man’s feeling pretty similarly. He makes an executive decision and grabs the remote, flicking on the TV and the DVD player. “This is a, uh, famous Earth legend, Cas.” The DVD starts, titles scrolling across a starry sky to disappear in the distance. 

Cas nods and leans forward, and Dean reads the words as they appear. “A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...”

\-----

The credits are rolling, and Cas is still leaning towards the TV, transfixed. “So Han came back to fulfill his duty to his friends, and everyone survived the battle?”

Dean nods. “Did you like it?”

“It was–” Cas thinks for a moment. “It was unrealistic, and oversimplified, and yet–” He shakes his head, a smile spreading over his face. “I did. I enjoyed it, Dean. Thank you for sharing your legends with me.” He thinks for a moment, then his smile turns a little wicked. “I rescued you from a cell on a starship, Dean. Does that make you the Princess in this story?”

Dean sputters for a moment, then laughs. “Hey, Leia was a badass. I got no problem being compared to her.”

Cas grins back, eyes and nose crinkling. “And perhaps that makes me Luke.”

"I dunno," Dean leans a little closer, "I think I'd rather have you be Han, personally. Luke and Leia– well, let's just say things don't end up the way I'd like things between us."

Cas is watching him closely, eyes a deep blue in the dim light of the living room. "And how would you like things between us, Dean?"

It’s been a long day, and Dean’s done putting off and pushing down and ignoring what he’s been feeling. He rubs a hand over his face and lets out a long sigh before meeting Cas’s eyes. “I’d kind of like to kiss you, Cas.”

"Dean--" Cas's eyes are wide, all his attention on Dean.

The silence stretches for five seconds, ten. Dean's about to panic and run away to– he doesn't even know where, but it's not this couch or this tiny stifling room, when a hand grabs his wrist and stills him. He looks up into Cas's eyes just in time for them to come closer and closer until there are lips pressed to his.

At first it's all wrong, hard and slightly too high and Cas's hands have shifted to the back of Dean' neck, but then something shifts and it's– well, it's pretty much perfect.

Dean's fingers find their way to Cas's waist, sliding fingertips under the hem of the sleeveless shirt he's wearing and Dean's never been so glad for the thin material of their standard issue undershirts. It shifts easily under his assault and he's touching warm skin along Cas's sides and flirting with the waistband of his dark green pants that hang just a little too loose on him. Dean's been trying to keep from staring at the strip of skin between shirt hem and waistband that shows whenever Cas moves all day, along with the bulge of muscle in his shoulders and arms that's bared by the new clothes. Now he examines it all closely by touch and feels Cas's fingers burying in the hair at the nape of Dean's neck, clenching and releasing as he lets out little groans and sighs against Dean's mouth.

He slides the shirt up inch by inch, chasing all that warm skin; Cas shivers against him, breathing hard as he pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead on Dean's. His hands slide down to yank Dean's shirt up, pulling away just enough to let the fabric slide over and off before kissing him again and turning to press him downward into the couch. He pulls away and frowns when he realizes how short the loveseat is, and Dean grins and pushes them both upright before an uncomfortable thought occurs to him and he stills.

“There’s not a, uh, Mrs. Cas waiting for your back on the planet, is there?”

Cas is already shaking his head before Dean can finish the question. “There’s no one, Dean.” He reaches back out to Dean, who pulls away with a relieved smile on his face.

"You know, I've got a bed upstairs." He slides out from under Cas, brushing the heel of his hand along the Jaffa's groin as he passes and relishing Cas's shudder and gasp. He stands and grabs Cas's hand, pulling him upright and lining their bodies up together. He kisses him again, fiercely, before sliding his hands down to get a handful of the other man's firm ass. He kneads, slipping his fingers downward, teasing between the other man's thighs before Cas lets out an honest-to-God growl and shoves Dean toward the stairs.

"I believe you mentioned a bed?" 

Dean gives him a smirk and can't help but do a double-take when he catches sight of the flush in Cas's cheeks and the way his mouth is swollen and pink. Hs hair is wild and his shirt is rucked up and suddenly Dean wants this to be continuing in bed about ten minutes ago.

He kisses him once more, quickly and closed-lipped and doesn't even care that it feels more tender than the evening has called for so far, and tangles his fingers with Cas's. "Come on." He pulls him forward and Cas follows, as he's been doing through the entire two days they've known each other (has it really only been two days?). They pass the bathroom, the guest room, then the hallway lined with Dean's pictures of his mother and father and Sam and more Sam before reaching the bedroom door. Dean can feel Cas slow for a moment, taking in the framed photographs, before obviously deciding they've got more urgent business than a trip down memory lane and crowding close behind Dean.

Dean's absurdly relieved to remember he'd put fresh sheets on the bed before this latest mission and actually made the bed this time as Cas examines the room curiously for a few moments with that intense stare of his. His eyes linger on the digital clock, the nightstand, the doorknobs and the rough-hewn wood of the furniture before he turns back toward Dean and zeroes in on the bed. He walks Dean backwards towards it until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, crowding in close and warm.

Dean sits suddenly as he hits the bed, tipping backwards and pulling Castiel with him to land in an undignified heap of limbs and clothing. Cas is fumbling with Dean’s belt, obviously frustrated with the unfamiliar combination of buckle, button and zipper, and Dean bats his hands away and instead pulls at Cas’s own shirt, tossing it aside and rolling them till he’s straddling Castiel in the center of the bed.

“This what you want, Cas?” He asks, grinning as he trails a finger down the gasping man’s chest and drags it featherlight over a nipple. “You want me to touch you like this?” 

Cas gasps, bucking up against Dean and Dean’s finger trails lower, then stops suddenly. “Cas?” he asks, voice hesitant. “What’s–” he runs a finger along the crossed seams in Cas’s flesh, and Cas lets out a strangled groan, tendons in his neck cording. Dean grins. “Never mind.” _Something to ask about later, I guess._

He slides further down, leaning forward until his mouth is hovering over Cas’s nipple. He breathes on it, warm air brushing across it. He watches the skin contract as Cas shivers and lets out a whimper, one that turns into a loud moan as Dean drops down even further and covers it with his mouth, licking and sucking as he grinds his hips down against the hardness in Cas’s borrowed fatigues. He works a hand between them as he bites gently at Cas’s nipple and slides his knuckles down the outline of Cas’s cock.

Cas’s hands come up to grasp at him, pulling his head up and forward so Cas can kiss him desperately, rolling them over again so he’s on top and attacking Dean’s pants with renewed vigor. He gets the belt undone and then the button and zipper are a breeze. Dean reaches up to do the same for Cas and suddenly they’re both naked, pants kicked aside in a heap with socks and boxers beside the bed.

Dean stretches out on his side, wanting to be closer to Cas than he can get with Cas braced above him. Cas follows suit, hands stroking up and down Dean’s back as he pulls them closer and brings their mouths together in a kiss, twining their legs together and holding him against his own body.

His hands venture lower to stroke along the curve of Dean’s ass, and Dean can’t help but buck against him, their bare cocks sliding together, slicked by sweat. He pulls away a little, pressing Cas onto his back, and trails kisses down his body until his fingers curve around Cas’s hipbones. He runs his tongue along the pale seam of flesh across Cas’s stomach, feeling the muscles of his abdomen twitch and grinning a little at the lack of navel, then continues downward.

Cas’s cock rises up, flushed and red and no different than a human’s. It’s beading with liquid at the tip and twitching and bobbing with Cas’s movements, and Dean rests on his elbows braced above Cas for a moment to enjoy the view.

Cas is panting, propped up on the pillows, flush starting in his cheeks and stretching down across his chest and stomach. His eyes are nearly black with desire and his fingers are clenched in the sheets. As Dean watches, his eyes narrow and he glances from Dean’s mouth to his cock then back to Dean’s eyes.

Dean laughs, getting the picture, and runs his tongue along the ridge of the head of Cas’s cock. The other man thrusts his hips up, smearing precome across Dean’s cheek, and glares down at him with all the menace of an angry kitten.

Dean rolls his eyes, smirking, and swallows Cas down in one smooth motion. He’s lucky he’s got an arm across Cas’s hips, because he bucks up with a strangled noise and Dean barely keeps from choking on the head of his cock as it bumps against the back of his throat.

He pulls up slowly then slides back down, dancing his tongue along the vein running down the underside of the shaft and flicking across the head as he draws the flat of his tongue across the tip. Cas is thrashing, whimpering, and he lets out a long keening moan as Dean’s hand drifts between his legs to roll his balls in his fingers. They’re tight, drawn up, and Dean can feel the muscles of his groin twitching and pulls off before the evening can end too soon. Cas gasps as Dean’s fingers circle the base of his cock and whimpers when he’s held down from thrusting into the restraining hand.

“ _Dean_ ,” he growls, and grabs the human’s shoulders to drag him upwards into a precome-flavored kiss. His hand snakes down, wrapping around Dean’s shaft and pulling upwards, thumbing over the head as Dean pulls his mouth away to bury his face in Cas’s neck. Cas’s breath ghosts over his ear, harsh and warm, and he whispers, “Dean, I want–” he gasps as his hand’s movement brushes against his own cock– “I want to be inside you.”

Dean’s whole body floods with heat at Cas’s whispered words and he stutters, “Yeah. Yeah, okay,” and sits up, reaching for the drawer of his nightstand. He pulls out a bottle of lube and Cas watches, shaking his head when Dean pops the top and starts to tilt it into his own hand.

“Could I–” he says hesitantly, sitting up as well and scooting up the bed until he’s resting against the headboard.

“Oh! _Oh._ ” says Dean, holding out the bottle. “Um. Yes.” He starts to roll over but Cas directs him down on his back instead, pushing his knees up.

“I want to see you,” he says, quietly, and Dean’s got no response to that except a warmth rising in his stomach and spreading through his chest and cheeks as he watches Cas’s eyes sweep across his body.

Cas takes the open bottle, kneeling between Dean's thighs, and takes a moment to just– _look_. He trails a gentle hand along one freckled knee, then up the soft skin of Dean's inner thigh. Dean watches his face, a little overwhelmed by the scrutiny. He's feeling raw, stripped bare under Cas's intense gaze, and it's almost too much to handle. Cas's eyes slide up to meet his and Dean can't breathe all of a sudden, chest contracting and emotion rising in his throat. He reaches out instead, wrapping a hand around Cas's where he's gripping the bottle. He holds it for a moment unmoving, their eyes locked, and Dean sees Cas's eyes flicker with a depth of emotion that's startling. It's even more surprising when he feels a smile curling up the corners of his mouth and something just as intense flashing through his own eyes.

He directs Cas's hand downwards, pulling the bottle from his hand and tilting it until a dollop of lube lands on the other man’s fingers, then sets the bottle aside. Cas blinks once, twice, then leans forward, running his dry hand along the inside of Dean’s thigh to brush across his balls and the base of his cock. Dean shivers. Cas’s other hand rubs a light circle around Dean’s hole, lube warmed and spread across his fingers, before breaching the rim with the tip of one.

Dean gasps, trying to relax against the intrusion while simultaneously fighting the urge to just moan shamelessly at the sensation of Cas’s exploring fingers working their way inside him. He suspects he’s losing that battle, but can’t really find it in himself to care when Cas’s slow, short thrusts feel so damn good. It doesn’t hurt that Cas’s dry hand is somehow now also coated in slick and is jacking him off so slowly it’s just stoking a slow burn in his lower abdomen.

He’s so lost in the sensation that he barely even registers the second finger entering beyond moaning at the increased fullness, and he feels Cas stretch forward and press lips to Dean’s own quickly before adding a third finger and scissoring them gently. It burns a little, but that’s not a bad thing because Dean’s so turned on he’s kind of worried this is going to be over before it even really starts.

Finally, after the addition of a third finger, he reaches down and pushes at Cas’s hand, murmuring, “I’m ready, just fuck me already,” and Cas lets out a shaky exhalation. He grabs the lube, slicking more over his cock before kneewalking forward between Dean’s legs.

He leans forward, pressing his chest down against Dean’s, and hovers there for a moment, balanced on one elbow and staring at Dean’s flushed face. Dean smiles up at him, hands stroking up his back as if calming a skittish horse. His fingers come to a halt, one hand curled in Cas’s thick hair while the other cups his buttock and squeezes, urging him down.

Cas grips his slick cock in his hand, pressing it against Dean’s hole, and both let out a moan as the head presses into Dean.

Cas’s head drops down against Dean’s own forehead and he pants harshly as he eases in, inch by inch, until his pelvis is pressed to Dean’s skin and his hand is clutching at Dean’s side as he pauses, then kisses Dean deeply. His hips shift a little as if by accident, then start sliding more purposefully against Dean. Dean shudders, heels digging into the mattress beneath them as he presses upwards against Cas’s thrusts and swears as Cas’s cock brushes his prostate.

“ _Cas_ ,” he gasps, eyes flying open to meet Cas’s shocked blue ones. His hands are clutching at Cas anywhere they can reach, half-exploring, half just hanging on as they come together again and again, their bodies sliding in their own sweat as their chests and stomachs rub together. Dean’s cock is trapped between their bodies and the friction isn’t quite enough to take him over the edge, but he’s gasping into Cas’s mouth and Cas’s cock is filling him perfectly. His hand finds Cas’s and grabs it, interlacing their fingers, and Cas whimpers against his mouth. “ _Dean_ ,” he says breathlessly. “I can’t– I’m going to–”

Dean thrusts a hand between them, grasping his own cock as he replies, “ _Yeah,_ Cas, God, please,” and strokes himself once, twice, feeling Cas rub against that sweet spot inside him one more time and that’s it. Dean comes with a gasp, flooding the space between them with come. His muscles clench and Cas bucks upwards against him, moaning Dean’s name as his hand clutches Dean’s. then freezing as he comes as well. 

Dean falls back, limp against the pillow, and Cas collapses against him, breathing hard. They stay that way for a few moments until the come starts to cool and Dean starts to notice the burning in his hips and gently lowers one leg, then the other, to the bed. Cas’s dick slips out easily, half-flaccid, and Dean grabs a discarded shirt from the floor and mops up some of the mess between them before rolling Cas on his side and pulling them back together.

Cas presses a kiss to his lips, a smile on his face. “Thank you, Dean. That was–” he searches for the word. “That was wonderful.”

Dean grins back at him dopily. “Yeah. Yeah, it kinda was, wasn’t it?”

 _I should get up,_ he thinks as Cas wraps an arm around him. _I should rinse off or show Cas where the towels are or something. Shit, show Cas_ what _the towels are._  

His eyes are drifting closed, though, and he thinks, _Maybe in just a few minutes._ He snuggles closer, breathing in the scent of sweat and come and _Cas_ that fills the air. _I’ll move in just a few minutes._

\-----

Dean awakens slowly, more comfortable than he can remember being in a long time despite the dried sweat and jizz on his skin. He leans closer to the warm pillar of heat beside him, about to drift back into sleep. But then the warmth shifts, stretching, and he opens his eyes to an arm wrapped around his ribs.

Suddenly the previous night comes flooding back to him and he smiles, rolling over carefully and brushing a lock of hair from Castiel’s forehead as a crease forms, then relaxes in the Jaffa’s brow.

 _Maybe waffles,_ he thinks, not quite ready to get out of bed but starting to get hungry enough to consider it. He runs a hand down Cas’s shoulder and across his back, closing his eyes and breathing in the other man’s scent. He grins, thinking, _This might not have been what the General meant by ‘develop alliances’, but I’m not complaining._

 _Maybe waffles can wait._ He moves a little closer, burying his face in Cas’s shoulder and smiling as the arms around him tighten. _This is pretty awesome._


End file.
